


Lonely Artist

by Shadeling



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadeling/pseuds/Shadeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki finds a musician as lonely as he is. One-Shot! Submitted into the Loki's Dirty Whispers 2013 Fanfiction Contest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely Artist

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is just a small one-shot that I wrote for the Loki's Dirty Whispers (aka kick-ass tumblr blog. A must for all Loki fans) 2013 Fanfiction contest. The idea was to write a 3,000 word or less fic using five "whispers" from a list of about fifty or so. I didn't win, but I had a lot of fun writing it and even more fun reading the winning fic ;) The first bit are the five whispers I chose. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> 1\. "Mine."
> 
> 2\. "My dear, why can't you see the adoration I have for you? You pretend that you prefer solitude, isolation, but I can see so clearly through your lies. You must be tired of compensating for the life you wish you were living…I will love you, I will give you the stars. You do not need to be alone."
> 
> 3\. "You are unaware of myself watching you, studying you. But tonight you will see how attentive I can be."
> 
> 4\. "Most would only want you to fulfill their carnal, lustful desires. I on the other hand, want you for more than that. If you want to know what it is, come with me."
> 
> 5\. "You are delicious. Ravishing, divine, and fit for a king."

There were few things in all the nine realms that Loki Silvertongue, God of Mischief and Deceit, truly appreciated. He cared little for strength of arms or material value. He sneered at ostentatious productions and gaudy finery, for such trifles screamed for attention like a spoilt child. No, the Liesmith preferred quiet plans and subtle beauty over the boastful glory so loved in Asgard.

Beauty. Now there was a trait that Loki could enjoy. Not just beauty in form, although Loki would hardy deny the benefits of a lovely partner. Beauty in the arts, though, a beauty born of creative genius was what captivated the God. A puzzling, strange beauty of the mind that stretched the imagination, bordering on wonderful madness. It was so very entertaining, another thing Loki loved. Fun was what he lived for.

And there were few things more fun than teasing a mortal.

Loki smiled as he watched his new favorite prepare her instrument for the night. She was part of some mortal orchestra, he did not care enough to learn the name, and his mortal would perform deep into the night. He watched the woman tuned and tested it, listening for any wavering in sound, caring for it as a mother would her child. He sighed quietly as she experimentally played a few chords. It was as clear as the sun rising in the east that this mortal was gifted, even in those simple notes. But what made her talent magnificent was the pure joy and love of music that she poured into every note, every song she played. Loki reveled in the radiance that shone on her face as she ran through scales and exercises that took her as little effort as breathing. Impulsively, he ran a cool finger down her neck. The music made a startled buck as she jerked away, whirling around. Her eyes grew wide, much to the Trickster's amusement, when there was no one around; at least, none that she could see. This wasn't the first time he'd toyed with her, an invisible ghost that followed and teased her as he pleased. He liked the way her entire body would leap from surprise, liked how her breath came in sharp pants as she searched for someone she would never find. He did try to keep from truly frightening her, though. He wanted to keep her, after all, not scare her away. Slowly, the mortal relaxed and resumed her practice, moving on to the songs she would perform later. She started as she always did, with her eyes locked on the music in front of her. But as she sank into the rhythm, her eyes drifted shut and the music swelled from her fingers gloriously. He hummed softly, pleased, and watched her eyelids flutter at the sound. Tonight, he decided. Tonight, he would come for her. "You are unaware of myself watching you, studying you," the God crooned softly, his words unheard by his mortal, "But tonight you will see how attentive I can be."*

Grinning widely in anticipation, he leaned over and whispered, "Mine,"* so close his lips brushed across her ear, allowing her to hear every ounce of desire he held in that one syllable. She gasped loudly and jumped to her feet as Loki laughed silently and disappeared.

Night fell, the orchestra performed and was deemed a great success by the audience, a pompous crowd with aristocratic airs. Loki scoffed at all of them. They were as far from royalty as he was from a rabbit, for all their riches and mannerisms. He detested them, as he detested the nobles in Asgard who'd clambered for his brother's attention.

And there was his mortal, shying away from the crowd. For reasons that baffled the God, she was largely ignored by both her fellow musicians and the audience. She was not their "star", not honored for her skill even when it easily surpassed that of the repulsive harlot everyone else was supplicating to. Typical, he thought disgustedly, they would parade a mediocre talent through the streets while burying true genius deep within the shadows. But no longer.

It was child's play to get her away from the party, though, truly, she was so desperate to leave, he could've approached her drenched in blood and she would've followed if it meant she could escape that place. She stopped short of leaving the actual theatre, though, which both annoyed and pleased him. Pleased because his pretty mortal, so sweet and vulnerable, was not so naïve to let a strange man drag her off somewhere and annoyed simply because he was growing tired of playing.

So, when the young woman asked him, demanded really, who he was, Loki, forming a bubble around them with his magic, dropped his mortal guise. The artist, his artist, was stunned speechless, her eyes huge with awe and no small amount of fear.

"Wha-what," she stammered and instinctively tried to back away. The Trickster caught her wrist easily and pulled her towards him.

"Now, now, let's not be rude," he purred softly, ignoring his mortal's struggling. "You wanted to know who I am, didn't you? This is my answer. I am Loki of Asgard and I have chosen you, sweet girl, to be my consort."

He pulled her hand up to his face, bringing her near enough for him to snag her waist and hold her close. The God pressed his nose against her pulse point and inhaled deeply, enjoying the intoxicating scent of vanilla and her mingling on her skin, with a sharp undertone of fear. He kissed the delicate skin there and Loki could feel her heart beat rapidly across his lips. The sensation was simply… delicious.

She made a strangled sound as his tongue traced the blue veins up to her palm. Loki glanced down at her face, a smug smile on his. "Don't bother, sweets," he said, watching her try to catch a security guard's eye. "No one can see or hear us. This might as well be a tiny slice of our own universe. We are alone here." He dropped her hand only to run his fingers down the curve of her cheek.

"Let me go," the musician whispered, frightened eyes meeting his. "Please, let me go."

Loki tilted his head at her curiously, "Now, why would I do that? More importantly," he leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "why would you want me to?" She shuddered as his lips caressed the shell of her ear. "See? You liked that, didn't you, darling," he crooned seductively, holding her tightly in his arms. She whimpered softly and the God hushed her gently. Her body was still and tense, but he was starting to smell the smallest hints of desire underneath the fear. "There, now, I'm not going to hurt you. I take very good care of what's mine, and, believe me, lovely girl, you are very much mine."

He spun her around abruptly, crossing his arms across her chest to keep her still. "Look," he commanded, "look at them. See how much they don't care, my dear? They haven't even noticed you're gone yet you struggle to go back to them. Why? I am the one who sees you, the one who has heard your sweet music and longed for more."

"Stop," she moaned softly, her head whipping from side to side. Loki growled lightly in frustration.

He spun her back around to face him and, with the speed of a God, trapped her against a wall. She gasped as he cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to stare into his eyes.

"I- I don't-," she protested as his thumb stroked her cheekbone and his opposite hand began to run through her hair.

"Don't what, dear? Don't want to be cared for? Don't want to be appreciated for who you are? Can you honestly tell me you don't want to be loved?"

Her eyes were shut now, tears starting to leak out and down her cheeks. Loki heard a soft, involuntary sound escape his throat at the sight of her tears and he pulled her into his chest, stroking her hair consolingly.

"My dear, why can't you see the adoration I have for you? You pretend that you prefer solitude, isolation, but I can see so clearly through your lies. You must be tired of compensating for the life you wish you were living…I will love you, I will give you the stars. You do not need to be alone."*

His mortal musician was openly sobbing now, no longer fighting his hold, but melting into it. The God buried his face in her hair and held her closer, making soft soothing noises as she cried out all her loneliness and heartache. It was a long time before she calmed enough to pull away, and this time, he let her, watching her tenderly.

"Why," her voice cracked slightly from the fading sadness. "Why me," she repeated, meeting his eyes now, stronger.

Loki cocked his head at her, smiling sadly. "I don't know why," he replied honestly. "Perhaps because your music brings me peace like nothing else does. Perhaps I simply find everything you do a delight and I want to hoard you to myself for eternity." His voice dropped and she shivered at his tone, though not from fear. That was mostly gone, now. He shrugged and continued, "Or perhaps when I look at you, I see a reflection of myself in your lonely eyes and I would like nothing more than to spare something so precious the pain of being like me."

She was crying again and he wasn't quite sure what to do…until she reached up and pressed her lips against his. It had been some time since Loki God of Mischief had been shocked like that, but he was nothing if not adaptable. He let her lead the kiss for a while, curiously exploring her soft lips. Then, when her mouth slipped open with a sigh as she started to pull back, he rushed forward, sliding his tongue teasingly through her lips before pulling back with a wide grin. "You are," the God hissed haltingly as he dove in eagerly for another taste, "delicious." His mortal moaned and returned his kisses eagerly. "Ravishing, divine, and fit for a king,"* he left her mouth and slid down her neck, sucking at the tender place where her pulse beat strongest. She cried out softly, her hands clutching at his hair as he nipped and licked that spot. "So sweet," he murmured against her throat. "So very mine."

When he pulled away, both of them were panting and her wonderful eyes were fogged with desire while the mark on her throat darkened delightfully.

"Come with me," he whispered darkly. "Be mine."

In her eyes, he could see her battle with herself, Reason against Desire. He had no intention of letting Reason win this battle from him.

He pulled her back to him, this time taking full control as he kissed her lips, her face, her hair, anywhere he could reach, moving with dizzying speed. He nipped at her lips to the point of pain, then soothed the wounds with his tongue. "I need you," he hissed in her ear and delighted in the sound she made when he traced the curve with his tongue. Then he abruptly pulled away, grinning like a devil. "Most would only want you to fulfill their carnal, lustful desires. I on the other hand, want you for more than that. If you want to know what it is, come with me."* With those final words, he detached himself from her and started to walk away.

Her hands clutched his arm desperately. "Don't leave me!"

He turned back and saw the naked fear and need on her face and he felt his face soften. Oh so slowly, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. "Come. With. Me." Every word was another butterfly kiss across her pretty mouth.

And when he started to walk away again, she grabbed his hand firmly and walked with him.


End file.
